


You're An Idiot

by LauraRoslin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Doctor!John, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Punishment, idiot!sherlock, kind of, sic!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraRoslin/pseuds/LauraRoslin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock ignores John's warnings and takes a case which ends in an injury and a punishment. (I suck at summaries!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're An Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to the wonderful ACD, Moffat, Gatiss, and any other intelligent being lucky to be a part of his creation. The plot, however, is mine.

Sherlock groaned into the table as his arse burned, aware of John moving around behind him but unable to see him. He shifted his weight slightly, the table only supporting part of his weight and the rest on his legs. He knew why he was being punished: John had warned him not to go on the case because it was dangerous, but Sherlock had gone anyway. John was livid when the detective returned home and within a few minutes, he found himself bent over the table with a red arse. 

“I told you not to take the case.” John had stopped moving and his voice was stern and close. “But you went anyway. I’m trying to help you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered and he subtly shifted his weight, relieved the trousers around his ankles hid the swollen and bruised ankle. He wasn’t aware of the wince of pain that crossed his features despite his efforts to hide it. John noticed. 

“You’re hurt.” The army-doctor immediately pulled away, eyes raking over the naked and sweaty body for signs of injury. He sighed before offering his hand to help Sherlock out of his trousers and pulling his arm over his shoulders. He led him to the sofa and sat him down, propping his leg up and hoping his arse didn’t sting too much.

“Sit down. I’ll get you something for your bum and then I’m looking over your ankle. Probably sprained, but knowing you, it’s probably broken.” John shook his head and sighed again as he went into the bathroom and pulled out the well-used medicine bag.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock called to him, unable to tell if John was upset or angry. He hated it when John went into ‘doctor mode’ because he couldn’t be deduced. He shifted around on the sofa, wincing as it jarred his ankle, a quiet whimper escaping him. 

John said nothing as he brought the bag out to the idiot and carefully rolled him over, gently holding the ankle so no unnecessary pain was caused. John wasn’t cruel, by any means. He dipped his fingers in the lotion and lovingly rubbed it into the red cheeks, listening to Sherlock’s sounds to help judge the pain. When he was satisfied and Sherlock had relaxed a little, he rolled him back over and met his eyes. 

“You’re an idiot, you know.”

Sherlock had nothing to say to that. He knew he was an idiot and he should have listened to John; he would certainly be in less pain if he had listened. He avoided John’s gaze as the older man moved down to kneel at the edge of the sofa. Letting out a long breath, Sherlock steeled himself as John moved his ankle back and forth, testing the motion. 

“It hurts,” he whined softly, trying to pull his foot away from John, but he held a tight grip just above the ankle. “Please stop.”

John raised an eyebrow and glanced up at the whining, child-like detective, shaking his head slightly. He held the detective’s gaze until he caved before going back to examining the swollen joint with a slight frown.

“It’s certainly not broken, Sherlock.” John sat back and crossed his arms, eyeing Sherlock warily. Some days he didn’t know what to do with the man. “But you did sprain it fairly badly, possibly a fracture. I don’t want you walking on it at all, at least not until I can get you to the surgery. Are we understood?”

Sherlock reluctantly nodded and John relaxed, moving up to press a chaste kiss to his lover’s lips. “Let me get you some pain killers and then we’ll head to bed; I know you’re tired.” He kissed him softly again before pulling away and digging through the medical bag. 

He pulled out two pills and gave them to Sherlock who swallowed them quickly, giving John a grateful smile and nod. He didn’t have to say it, but John knew how grateful Sherlock was. Without another word, the shorter man delicately lifted Sherlock up and carried his too-light body to the bedroom. He made sure he was settled in with his leg propped up, even finding him a clean icepack to cover the injury. Sherlock didn’t speak, feeling the slow effects of the medicine on his body and slowing mind. 

Just after John slid into the bed beside Sherlock, his eyes fell shut and didn’t open for a moment. John laughed quietly and rubbed his arm, hoping to relax him enough to sleep. Thankfully, it worked and the pained detective drifted off within a few moments, his body going limp and relaxed as he moved closer to John.

“Sleep well, idjit.”


End file.
